Pixie paced the meadow not remembering the last time he'd felt this nervous. Meeting Path, while he had been scared at times he was going to lose her, was completly different than this. What he had kept telling her all this time was true, that something hadn't felt right in the soil and he was trying to keep things tended and make sure that everything fine. Not only was this beloved land a beauty and a comfort to them but it was also the source of their food and he hadn't wanted whatever was stiring to interfere with the development of his son. His son.. that was a thought he could never quite get used to. While he had accepted and adjusted to being a mate and being responsible for someone else Path was strong and perfectly capable of taking care of herself. Now he had a son and he was terrified. That was another reason he kept putting off this meeting. He wasnt sure he was cut out for being a rolemodle, let alone a parent. He had never been around a foal, didn't know how to interact around them. True this all could have been prevented if he would have been there at first but at that time he really did feel like he needed to be tending the land and once that had been taken care of enough for him to sneek off Darroch was old enough to understand he hadnt been there at first. He wasnt sure how this was going to go but not only coudld he not wait any longer but he was pretty sure Path wasnt going to wait any longer either. One way or another he was about to meet his son.

He went out now and again simply for the aspect of leaving home. The realm he lived in was wonderful, and there was no shortage of lands to visit with the Serians he shared his bonded with, but sometimes... Sometimes you just needed another universe. He had practically grown up between Hybrid's active storm and his own lightly-treed field; given a little more time, he'd be a full stallion in his own right.

He'd come here before as well, of course. It was Sionayra, the sacred land of Rhyandrithae for his kind, and his homeland. No matter where he lived he knew, for his mother had told him, that the history of his kind came from here.

It was particularly close to his heart, given the few things he knew of his bonded's history. Countless lives, worlds and adventures were unaccounted for with her, but the one that truly mattered - that of her own history and birth-rite - had been destroyed. She had no other home besides that which she had created for him and his bond-mates.

The last time he had been here there had been a massive celebration with the others. They often gathered in such a way, although it was far from regular; it only happened when they felt it was needed. Talking, playing, dancing, keeping the companionship between each of them thriving as they took time to reflect on where they were in life and where they had come from.

The only exception to this irregularity was that each time a new Serian joined them the same celebration would be held. For the first week of arrival each of them literally lived in the lands that their bonded lay claim to - and yet none of them had been able to locate her actual den, even with the number of times this party had taken place. She had one, that much they knew, but where was a mystery.

Darroch, however, was long passed the knobble-kneed stage of youth and well into the lean look of a young stallion. He was rather delicately built, but as Hybrid taught him that was nothing to be ashamed of. Great power such as theirs required a lot of energy; any fuel his body gained went towards his growing talents instead of building muscle.

Thinking of his adoptive-father, and of his powers, Darroch found himself smiling just a little. His hooves twitched merrily as he entered the vale again; the same place where Flint had found a friend he could admire only to have it become more. The same place his mother had been stumbled upon by his sire. The same place Sign had first met with West to see if he might be the stallion she needed to protect her... Where she had seen her son for the only time.

It seemed to be a good place. And the plants were just thrumming with all kinds of energy. If he was to be told it was time he went out again, this was the first place he wanted to explore in greater depth.

The trees, especially, seemed wise here. They must have seen a lot during their years.

One of them seemed to have a sick branch. With a flick of his tail and half of a buck, he danced along with his talent and smirked as the ill limb cracked off and decomposed into ash to sprinkle a nutrient boost around the roots.

Speaking of the roots... It was a good tree, but the wrong sort for where it was anchored. The grip was wrong, the moisture was wrong, even the bugs were wrong. It was no wonder it had begun to fall ill, as young as it was.

Rearing up, he twisted about and gave an all mighty spinning buck, whickering with self-satisfaction as the entire tree shuddered from root to tip. With a shift of his weight he rocked forward onto a single hoof, eyeing the leaves as they fell and scattered for a rich bedding.

All the movement wasn't required, but he simply enjoyed it. His mother was right; there was music everywhere. For her it was the dancing play of light and shadow, but for him it was in the plants themselves. He felt them, lived through them, and they always shifted and breathed and sang as the very soil nourished their lives.

It made eating incredibly satisfying, when he could feel the energy in the blades of grass that would fuel his body.

And he had gotten good at it; instead of over-balancing on his single front hoof he rocked the motion forward even farther, shifting his back end to the side so that he literally skipped forward to land on his left hoof instead. Steadying himself with his right hind was all that was needed for him to jump up and give another bucking kick as all four hooves left the air.

When he landed his work was complete; the tree was now a solid oak, and at least two years older than the one he had just transformed. The bushes scattered near the new roots were pretty glad for this, since the sunlight streamed through the branches in a completely new manner. And the vines that hugged the trunk were singing as they took the extra fertilizer that was left of the tree that had previously stood.

He was particularly proud of this feat of his. It was quite simple; only a matter of defining what made one tree different from another and altering it appropriately. Sadly he had killed quite a few specimens while perfecting the skill, but as Hybrid had told him you can't harness with a storm without getting shocked once or twice.

Although his favorite was still in changing the surface appearances of nature. When he spread his consciousness through the plants in search of rich grasses for a mid-day snack, he also gave those vines a miniature make-over. By the time he had stepped away to find his snack they were all shimmering varying shades of green; some of them almost looked to be glowing or even under water. More than one had been curled and twisted into complicated designs, patterns that wove a protective barrier between his newly transformed oak tree and any nearby insects.

Oak tree, he snorted, thinking of what his mother would say. Of course an oak tree fit the spot best. My name does mean 'Oak-Heart,' after all.

Of course it also meant strong, but his strengths couldn't easily be seen.

But then neither could a certain stallion, apparently. No sooner had the colt turned towards his grassy snack than he saw the stranger standing near by. How had he not sensed him sooner? The only time anyone had eluded his perception fully was Hybrid within his storm-laden home...

That meant this stranger would also have to be equally at one with the element surrounding him. But the only thing here was - nature.

Curious, and wondering how long the other had been there, the young stallion reached out and called up the waters and roots in the ground to create a great rift between them. Within seconds a bare patch of earth had dried into sand and a new series of miniature waterfalls let the excess water flow into a dense thicket. The patch of dried sand bothered him, but repairing the sacrificial damage without creating a sinkhole would be difficult. Darroch knew how, it was simply a feat he would have to focus the entirety of his skills upon.

For the moment he stood at the edge of a massive gorge with bits of stone stabbing into the air along the sides; the cutting water had removed the earth but been unable to dislodge the bohemian boulders. On the other side was a Serian he had never seen before that had somehow managed to escape his notice, though he had obviously been trampling the lush grasses around his hooves for quite some time.

What would this stranger do, if he was indeed another nature elemental?

Pixie felt Darroch approach rather than heard him. He could sense his sons presence in his very soul. It was clear as he watched unseen for a time that Darroch had gotten his fathers elemental abilities, as Pixie had hoped he would. Hopefully that would make this meeting a little easier, with them both being able to communicate in the most natural and positive way elimentals did, with their gifts.

It wanst about show or seeing who could out do the other but generally as an element your mood was reflected in your talent. He had often wondered if thats why he felt so inept when it came to conversations. He wasnt designed to communticate with words, only in the subtle change in nature surrounding him. At the moment it was taking all his effort to not have flowers suddenly bloom up high enough to cover him. Although he was scared and couldnt believe that this fine young stallion was his own son, he couldnt explain how happy that made him and how his heart soared to see him. He only hoped he could express his feelings properly and that he didn't hold so much of a grudge that Pixie couldn't make things right with him.

The rift tearing open between them hadn't gotten even a modicum of reaction from the stranger, not even so much as a counter-measure. This was... Odd.

After a moment's indecision he turned away from the other to focus on the patch of sand that had been created to form the gorge. No reaction didn't mean this other was a particularly friendly sort, but he hadn't made a move to attack yet either. So the colt decided to take the risk.

It truly did take every ounce of focus within him, but Darroch managed to repair the patch of land without creating a sinkhole or quicksand. He was still young enough to have the effort take a noticeable dip into his energy, making him scoop up a few mouthfuls of fresh grass without thinking about it while he worked.

Snorting, he glanced back towards the other when he finished. It hadn't taken long, but he could tell there was some odd, new emotion on the stallion's face, and the grass around his hooves was shimmering. It seemed he was suffering from some particularly strong emotion and having difficulty keeping his talents in check because of it.

He could only guess as much, but from what he had seen and learned from Hybrid it was the best explanation. Whoever this fellow was, he was an old hand at being tied into the earth.

For now, Darroch decided to gamble on satisfying his curiosity. He still wasn't very good at being around others; he was either buried in the plant life or else being corralled by the manners he had naturally fallen into. His mother was a very warm mare to any who even knew of her dancing, but she was also highly aware of how quickly a sore word could deteriorate into blows. She had plenty of fighting experience between their bondmates to prove it.

All and all this would be good practice. He had a feeling he could learn more ways to express himself; new ways to become a bit less introverted.

Learning, however, was another matter entirely. He just hadn't been shaken from the shell of his mind yet. He was too wrapped up within the texture of leaves to be highly practiced in dealing with other living creatures.

Although he made efforts. Such as this. He was out here now, wasn't he, and he had come out before to explore and meet new friends. He didn't understand the process as well as he understood how a leaf came from a seed, but he was always trying to expand.

Speaking of expanding he really should find a way to close the gorge between himself and this other if he was going to do anything other than take a few half-conscious steps closer. Reviewing his experience for a basis on how to proceed would do no good without a means of proceeding at all.

With another here watching he found himself less willing to revel in the dance and play of nature's shifting, something that made him feel slightly stifled. It was easy to understand why his mother only danced for those she particularly trusted; it was a part of each of them, and yet to randomly prance before another revealed too much.

As it was he merely flicked an ear to create the changes he desired, just as he had while focusing upon making the patch of sand into fertile ground again.

Even with such a simple movement, the stones that had been stabbing into the air took on a life of their own. The water that had ripped through the land to create the gorge between himself and this stranger had left them more or less unmarred, but that did not mean they weren't of use to him.

The great slabs had a unique feel of their own to him. They were earth, but not earth. There were particles in there, and small sparks of heat and light and fire and life and pressure. Some stones had hollow places within that insects could use as shelter, others were smaller and yet so much more densely packed.

They were a part of nature as well; the earth, the stones, the air he breathed, it was all alive in different ways. The key was finding that life.

He found the life in the stones and with barely any discernible thought they worked their way free of the clutches of earth that supported them as the ground itself shifted in such a way as to hurl them into the air. Each one landed precisely where he wished it, or else was quickly shifted into the proper position.

Within moments a great bridge spanned the gap, great stones interlocked and cemented together with either further use of stone or even bits of earth and mud.

And Darroch stepped forward to cross it.

He was wishing he hadn't turned down Caustic's offer to accompany him as his hooves landed solidly on the rough surface. He wouldn't be going out on his own for the first time if the other stallion was here, and yet he found he needed some sort of comforting presence. Few things were of a greater comfort to him than Hybrid, but the deadly stare of the warrior's gaze was a close second. There was some strong magic alive in Caustic for any who met his gaze to drop dead of a heart stopped from fear.

Something about this stranger seemed to be very off as he drew closer. As his hooves reached the grass on the other side, a small piece of what troubled him snicked into place. The stallion that was mere feet away now had a pair of wings that was disturbingly familiar.

Ears perked forward attentively, the colt stopped just on the other side of his newly created bridge and offered a small bob of his head, dipping his neck in a parody of a bow as his mother often did. It was hard to burrow into the comforting feel of grass around his hooves when he had to focus just to pick up on the presence of the one before him. If he didn't keep an active attention on this one, his perception of him would fade entirely; there would be no keeping half an eye on him while examining the way the beetles burrowed.

Hail, stranger, and well met, he greeted, his deep voice sounding even richer in the stillness of the Vale. His mother often smiled when he spoke; his voice was deeper even than hers, and held a rich velvet tone which made her think of the oldest of moss-coated trees speaking for the first time in centuries. I am known properly as Darroch, son of Path. I'm also an earth weaver, an elemental of nature as you can see, and was given no warning of your presence. Is it safe to assume you are also such an elemental? I know from Hybrid, my guardian, that when surrounded by that which is a part of themselves elementals are entirely undetectable. He paused here, studying the other stallion curiously, before adding I'm not yet a full grown stallion, though I'm close and my guardian's taught me a lot. Perhaps we can learn from one another. And then, as an afterthought, Ah, and do excuse me. By guardian I refer to a stallion that has acted as a father to me. My true father has never been met, and so Hybrid stepped in to help raise me. To help while I was young I was instructed to call him my guardian when I began to refer to him as 'Poppa.' If I make such a lapse into phrases that are unique to my bond-herd again, please feel free to tell me. I'll be happy to explain myself.

Pixie's heart twisted as Darroch spoke. On one had he was so proud of the stallion he was becoming and the way not only he exicuted his talents, but in his mannerism as well. But his heart tore at the fact that his son had grown up calling anohter "Poppa" because he had been to scared of his own insecurites to come around sooner. This was all going to change now though. He retuned the slight bow Darroch had offered and out of habit, or maybe pure nerves, grabbed a quick mouthful of grass to give him some strength. Even with that all was able to manage was "Hello son. My name is Pixie and I'm your sire. I have a story, along with a lot of explaining to tell you, and I am hoping that you will hear me out and forgive me for being such a fool."Even as he said it he knew that was even close to adequite but it was a start, Darroch would now be aware of who he was and that he needed to explain. He just hoped with his very esscence that he would be willing listen. It was time for him to go home to his beloved Path and Darroch.

It was the first thing that came to mind, the only thing to fill his thoughts. He would have drowned if he hadn't let it out, this single accusation.

The revelation had taken him by surprise, causing him to take half a step back. The sound of his hoof scraping against the rough rock he had shaped to suit his purposes held him in check, making him flick an ear back as he remembered the bridge and the gorge beneath it.

Still, Darroch was beginning to see it. He had always been able to see his mother in himself; the markings that wove paths across his skin, the same sky blue as her mane. The golden hue to his own mane, the same shade as her coat. He had her horns as well. The gentle blue even permeated his wings and shaded his eyes, and his mane was growing in to be as full and silky as hers was.

Now he could see some of this stranger within him. The brown hooves, the shade of the stallion's coat. The green markings matched his coat as well, and the elemental abilities went without need of mentioning. Their wings, as well, were very nearly identical; living branches that were a part of their very bones, wings that were used to help their working of nature itself while it thrived on their very bodies.

Yes, he could see himself in this other.

And the more he saw, the less he was able to hold his tongue.

My sire you may be, though I've no thought for that. Hybrid has filled the place you were meant to be, and I've no regrets from it. He has been a fine guardian. I can not claim to have missed out on anything. Yet it is my mother whom you wounded, for she waited faithfully. Being who she is I've never known her to weep, but sir she is ever mindful of the horizon and watchful among the winds for even a whisper of you. She needed you here more than I ever have. Or ever shall.

His ears were laid back flat as he spoke, his voice deepening to the growl of an old tree falling to earth for a final rest in his anger. He meant every word; he felt nothing upon meeting his sire now, for Hybrid had been all he had need of. There was no sentiment of wishing he had been there instead, and no need to wonder where he had been; Darroch had been given all that was required and more.

No, he did not care that the stallion had abandoned his son, only that he had left behind a loyal mate. His son, after all, was no worse off without him. His mate was the one to notice his absence.

I have no need of stories or explanations, for no matter the reason you can not change what has been. You were not there. Rather you were laying broken and dying somewhere and needed this time to heal or rather you simply couldn't be bothered is of no matter to me. You were not there, and I've no need to justify this to myself. Hybrid helped me to come to terms with such facts, and so I have. The why is of no matter.

This fool thought to show up and explain himself, now, of all times? Now, when he was at the brink of his stallion-hood? Ha! A pox upon justifications and any promises he thought to make. They would be worthless. Pixie could say what he wanted when he wanted, but unless he was able to prove it to be true his words were meaningless.

And yet he remembered well all that his mother had told him. How Pixie had been among the first to discover her dances, how he had looked beyond her manners to see what lay beneath. There had been more than one occasion where she knew that someone in their bond-herd simply needed their tail kicked and she never hesitated to remind them of the importance of being polite. And yet as hard as she could be, there was a beautiful laugh that loved to ring across an open field while others beat music with their hooves and chanted tales that wove magic into the air. Few - very few - knew of this, but Pixie had caught a glimpse and had put forth the effort to see more.

He had romanced her, had kept to the proper manners and never once pushed or forced. He had been strong and steady and kind, and he had been understanding when her fear of deep water showed itself. He even agreed to mate with her alone, rather than to have either of them share their hearts.

He had been a good stallion, once.

Or so she said, and so Darroch remembered as he looked into this strange face that was so much like his own.

What matters is that you are here now. What matters is what you are going to do now that you've returned to a land where you could be found. Give me no promises, sir Pixie - father - nor excuses. Give me proof your word holds such value as my mother, as your mate still believes.

He hesitated a moment, studying the other's face. Looking into his eyes. Stepping closer once again, still searching those green orbs for something he couldn't put a name to, he added Show me you're my father, not just my sire. And if you must, tell me things which I may learn from, upon your absence from our lives. Tell me the lessons in life you have found to share with me. But give me not excuses.

Darroch continued to hold the other's gaze, ears high and assertive now, his tail arched confidently as he issued the challenge. And he continued to search his father's eyes, hoping to see more than regret or self pity. Praying for some sign of strength or loyalty. Some indication that this stallion could be a father.

He looked into his father's eyes and tried his hardest to find love, though he knew not what it was he so desperately searched for.